There is a weight on my back.
Is it an anchor?
Or is it wings?
YOU ARE READING
I Bleed Galaxies: An Ode To Battle Scars
PoetryPoetry. Prose. Bursts of thought. Stream of consciousness. Perfectly planned stories. Moments of pain, and moments of triumph. Utter isolation and all consuming celebration. My illnesses, my demons, myself. An attempt at mapping my mind. Cover by @B...
Or
There is a weight on my back.
Is it an anchor?
Or is it wings?
